


Survivor

by SemperAeternumQue



Series: Semicolon Tattoos, And The Meanings Thereof [1]
Category: Keeper of the Lost Cities Series - Shannon Messenger
Genre: Bronte is a good best friend, Gen, Healing, I'm still sad over Kenric's death and it shows, Kenric gets mentioned a fair bit but he's already dead so he doesn't show up, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Recovering from loss, Tattoo Fic, Tattoos, They're best friends and that's literally it, i cannot emphasize how much i do not ship these two, poor Oralie has been through some shit, the semicolon tattoo headcanon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:13:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22500766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SemperAeternumQue/pseuds/SemperAeternumQue
Summary: Oralie gets a tattoo with very special meaning, and Bronte is a good friend.
Relationships: Councillor Oralie & Councillor Bronte
Series: Semicolon Tattoos, And The Meanings Thereof [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618897
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	Survivor

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, Semp here! You may have already seen this on Tumblr, or you might have come here from the Tumblr post, but here's the Oralie fic for the semicolon tattoo headcanon; I hope you like it!
> 
> For those of you who haven't seen the headcanon: The semicolon tattoo headcanon basically is that most of the Keeper elves have a semicolon tattoo, each for their own reasons. (Meaning behind semicolon tattoos: https://www.grammarly.com/blog/why-a-semicolon-tattoo-is-the-most-beautiful-tattoo/)
> 
> Anyways, no warnings except brief mentions of death, and mentions of scars, but nothing is graphically described.

Oralie took her time in gathering her bag as the Council headed out of their meeting, each to their own lunch and afternoon plans, trying to not let her nervousness get the better of her. Bronte must have noticed her lingering, as he stayed as well, ostensibly gathering his own stuff. 

“You seem nervous,” He noted as Oralie slung her bag over her shoulder. 

She jumped, startled and already a little high-strung. “I-“

“You don’t have to tell me what’s going on, I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

His steady presence leant Oralie the courage to tell him what she had planned. “I’m planning to get a tattoo today, and I’m a little nervous.” 

Bronte just nodded. “Do you want me to come with you? I remember how nerve-wracking it can be.”

Oralie assessed her feelings and decided that she did indeed want to bring her grumpy friend along. “Yes, please, assuming you don’t have other plans for today.”

“Humph. As if I ever have plans. Where are you going?”

Oralie listed off the place she planned on going in Atlantis.

“Good choice, I hear they do a good job,” Bronte said as they made their way outside and Oralie retrieved her pathfinder. She twisted the crystal to the correct setting, holding it up to the light, and they re-formed on the cliffs above Atlantis. 

One short whirlpool slide and one slightly longer walk through the streets of Atlantis, they were at the cramped little tattoo shop.

“Welcome, guys!” The elf at the front counter greeted, apparently completely unaware of the fact that there were two Councillors in his shop. Oralie had to admit that it was refreshing to not be recognized for once. 

“Appointment or walk-in?” The elf asked.

“Appointment,” She replied.

“Great! What name is it under?”

“Oralie.”

“Ah, got it. Tattoo, yes? And is it just you, or is your friend going too?”

“Yes, tattoo, and just me, he’s here for emotional support.”

Bronte grumbled under his breath, but didn’t protest that.

“Great, take a seat. It’ll probably be about 10-ish minutes, the client before you came late.” 

They sat down in the remarkably soft chairs, bracing themselves for the wait. Oralie tried very hard indeed to keep the nervousness off her face. She must have succeeded at least a little, seeing as Bronte didn’t say anything about it, but he was right by her side, steady and solid as ever. There was something somewhat comforting about having someone who had lived so very many years with you, a certain sense that no matter how bad it got, Bronte had seen worse and had a steady confidence that they would get through it. Despite his pessimistic nature, he always seemed confident in Oralie’s ability to get through anything, which was very comforting indeed.

“Next!” A voice called, and Oralie got up silently. 

“Good luck, not that you’re going to need it,” Bronte told her. “You’re going to be fine.” 

Oralie just nodded, not trusting her voice very much as she made her way into the tattooing room.

“Hello!” The tattoo artist greeted, and did a small double take. “Mikey! You didn’t tell me we had a Councillor in our cliental!” 

“We have WHAT in our WHAT?” The receptionist hollered back.

“Councillor! Cliental! Idiot,” The tattoo artist sighed. “Anyways, we have your design. Very simple, we don’t get a lot of requests for these though. Where?”

It took Oralie a minute to realize she was asking where to put it. Oralie indicated the burn scar on her arm, wincing at the memory of the pain.

“Over the scar?”

Oralie nodded.

“Perfect. Hold still.” 

Oralie did as the artist asked as she slowly brushed the semicolon on, little by little. The ink slowly sunk under her skin, fading to almost grey as the very last bit sank in. It itched a little, and Oralie resisted the urge to move. 

“There we go, design done. Does this meet your standards?”

“Yes, it looks lovely.”

“Ready for the fixer elixir?” She asked, laughing a little. “Sorry, I love saying that. Mikey doesn’t think it’s funny, but I do.”

Oralie stared at the design, inked over the scar from the day that had taken her love away. “Ready.”

The artist picked a vial off the wall, uncorked it, and poured the contents over the tattoo, making sure Oralie’s arm was over a bucket first to catch any drips.

It was only a few seconds later that the ink turned back to the sharp black, now permanently fixed in her skin. The tattoo artist, who reminded her distinctly of Livvy, passed her a rag to wipe off the rest of the fixer elixir. Oralie did so, almost in a haze as she passed it back to the artist and wandered slowly back to the lobby area, where Bronte was waiting, looking just as crabby as ever. 

“How did it go?”

Oralie tried to open her mouth to speak, but her voice stuck in her throat as tears formed in her eyes. Instead of words, what came out was a sob, and she buried her face in Bronte’s shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her. Oralie cried and cried, although whether they were tears of sorrow or joy, fear or relief, she couldn’t tell. Finally, she pulled away, tears all cried out. 

“Are you alright?” Bronte asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

For the first time in a long time, Oralie’s smile was real as she told him “Yes. I’m okay." 

For the first time in a long time, that wasn’t a lie. Oralie’s world had been shattered the day Kenric died, but little by little, she had been picking up the pieces and making something beautiful out of the shards. She would never be the elf she was before, but that was okay.

Bronte simply nodded, which his own way of acknowledging just how far Oralie had come. "Alright then. Lunch in Atlantis, since we’re already here?" 

"Sounds like a wonderful idea." 

As they paid at the counter, Oralie glanced down at her arm, brushing her fingers over the section of skin which held the scar and tattoo, both evidence that she was a survivor. The scar proved that she had survived the fire. The tattoo proved that she had survived Kenric’s death, not unscathed, but all the stronger for it. She didn’t need a new love to heal her or make her whole. She was enough by herself. She wasn’t whole, not without Kenric, but she didn’t need to be. She had herself and her best friend, and that was enough. She might have broken, but she was healed now, truly, and all the more beautiful, not in spite of her scars, but because of them.

Oralie linked arms with Bronte, and they stepped into the world.


End file.
